


In the Shadow of the Moon

by DayDreamingAni



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood
Genre: Alcide the Good Guy, Alcide!Alpha, Eric the Bro, F/M, Multiple Character OOC behavior, My sad attempt at Romance, Pack Dynamics, Sam isn't a Douche, Shifters, Slight Sookie Hate will eventually bleed through, Sookie the Pest, TimeLine? What is this word?, Understanding!Eric, Were-Creatures, Were-Politics, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayDreamingAni/pseuds/DayDreamingAni
Summary: Reyna Torres is just some kid with a sketchy past and enough scars to prove she's a fighter in all things. She doesn't ask for much except to maybe rest her feet when she stumbles upon a pack that calls themselves The Long Fang Tribe. She doesn't want any more than the Pack Master is willing to allow her. She can handle the bumps, scrapes and bruises just as long as she's allowed some semblance of peace.She doesn't really intend to fall in love with the only guy who's ever told her she's worth a damn. Nor does she intend to make friends with dead gods.But, as she'll learn fast enough, strange things happen when they enter Louisiana. ORThe one where Alcide is the love interest and might actually get the girl.ORThe one where the Werewolf love story is the main point of the fic.  ((OC-Centric))((Not a Sookie Fix-It. Both time's she destroyed her bed and so I'm forcing her to rot in it.))





	1. An Introduction Rewritten

 

* * *

 

 

**First off, I know, technically Sookie doesn't meet Alcide until Bill gets kidnapped by his maker Lorena and they head off into Dallas. In both Book and Show they do that. But, seeing as to how you guys are aware of this and are familiar with this--and I didn't want to feel like this was a carbon copy of other Fic's--I decided to shove him in a little earlier.**

**So if you're wondering where this Fic starts up, I'll tell ya. This picks up just after Bill kills Longshadow after Sookie exposing him as being the one who is stealing money.**

**And yes, I have completely re-written Alcide's past, present and hopefully future. I figured since Alan Ball dry humped the shit out o my favorite book and left me with that season finale fuckery and everyone gave him a standing ovation for it, I too could do whatever the hell I damn well want. Oh, and not that I don't find Joe Manganiello utterly delectable, because I do but the Alcide I envision for this fic is way more rugged and manly. So, like Joe and Jason Momoa mixed together and the Testosterone amped up by like 3000%.**

**Also, I have some serious issues with BookSookie and ShowSookie so if it bleeds through,** I make no apologies **. Some, NOT ALL, Book and Show plots will be used. Whatever will be used will probably NEVER be in order, so, fair warning.**

**Last but not least, I hope you enjoy what I've begun. I wrote it only because a funny little thought jumped into my head and I figured 'Why not!'.**

 

* * *

 

 

—X—

Alcide likes to think of himself as a decent enough man. He doesn't actively try to screw anyone over. He likes to root for the underdog and if ever a friend comes to him with any kind of trouble, he'll help out in any way he can. His mother taught him how to be a good man where his father could not. She taught him there was more to him than the beast his father fed. His mother told him he was more than Man and more than Beast and never was he to bow to just one of them. And his sister, his annoying little—but not so little anymore—sister, taught him humility. His father showed him what it was to be a bad man and Alcide's done all that he can to not become _that_.

Still, for all that his mother had taught him how to be a good man and a respectful wolf, he wanted to pull a page out of his fathers book and high tail it out of here. But, he can't. His mothers words echo in the shadows of his mind. A memory burned into him that keeps him from tucking tail time and time again.

_“_ _I told you a long time ago baby, you were born with shoulders meant to carry great responsibilities,” his mother, Grace Herveaux, had told him the night he had ascended as pack master after his father had abandoned them all._

_“They don't want me,” he had told her, his head hanging low as if the weight of his decision was sitting upon him then, “They want who Jackson used to be. The wolf he was back before he let it all go to his damn head.”_

_“No, love, they want you. They come to you because they see in you all the greatness your daddy used to have. But they ask you to lead them because they don't see **all** of him in you. You're a good man Alcide, baby, and they can see that in you,” his mother had said. Her emerald eyes gleaming with something like pride and sadness entwined. _

_“Well,” he had mumbled to her at that, “At least it's only a handful of people. How hard can it be, right?”_

As it turned out, it was very hard, harder than anything he'd ever done in his life. Harder than that time he went to away to college and somehow managed to juggle the family company.

His mother, in an effort to save some kind of face, had left Jackson, Mississippi. Despite the fact that it had been Jackson who had been abjured—her mate and husband—his mother had felt she must shoulder some of the same punishment her bonded was given. They'd taken what little was left from their family company and brought out to Louisiana. It'd taken a long time before they were able to settle it into Shreveport, but with his mother, sister and himself pounding the pavement they'd built something out of the rubble their father had left behind. And he was damn proud of it.

Out here, in this state, in these lands, he wasn't Jackson's kid son. No, out here, he didn't have to live in the shadow of his fathers sins. Forced to carry a cross that wasn't meant for him. Out here, with his mother and his sister as his only pack, he was free to be whatever kind of man or wolf he wanted to be.

But, then some of the old pack had found them. The Long Fang tribe had all but faded after he'd left Mississippi. All of them disbanding and creating tiny factions within themselves. They'd found them, some of the elders and a few of the young ones, thirteen in all. Thirteen rag tag misfits who couldn't find their place among others and had gone searching for those that had in the past run with them. Thirteen wolves that had migrated to Shreveport, Louisiana simply because he had gone there.

Even if his mother had not dressed him down that night as she had, he would have taken them in and taken up whatever mantle they had asked of him. After all his father had put them through, had made them endure under his drunken reign, he owed them this much.

After all, Pack was Pack and he wasn't his father. They'd come looking for him and he wasn't about to turn his back on them. So he does what he can, what he must, for them. Even if sometimes it's more trouble than it's worth.

Like now, where he finds himself somewhat _employed_ by a Vampire of all things, because some undead prick found out he was Jackson's son and Jackson happened to owe 1.5 million dollars to the vamp in question. In all honesty, Alcide isn't sure how, where or when, the Vampire found out he was in the Shreveport area only that he did. It had taken a full four hours of threatening, negotiating and renegotiating before a middle ground was found between Alcide and the vampire.

The debt, that hideously large debt, was given to Alcide and written over his head. But, Alcide was sure to inform Mr. Northman that there was no way he could pay it back in the form of money. At least not now and not in full. His business was good, great actually, but not like that. Maybe given ten years Alcide would make a dent in it. But, the vampire—the gigantic asshole that he is—argued that he didn't money to be paid back. No, what the ancient corpse wanted was payment in the form of favors.

Bury a body here.

Enforce a law there.

Run a disobedient vampire into the ground somewhere.

Or guard the Ancient Fuck and his Pedigree Progeny where ever.

Alcide had no choice in the matter but to accept. Of course, he was adamant to include in their contract, that this debt was his and his alone. What he was required to do—whatever the case may be—was for him to do and not his Pack. His pack was not to be expect to bow to Northman. And never would he go against his pack should the vampire ask him.

Needless to say, Northman hadn't object too much on the matter.

“Her name is Sookie Stackhouse and I need you to guard her,” Northman had said. His eyes never blinking as he stared over the rim of his blood filled wine glass.

“Guard her?” Alcide had questioned with a severe tone of disbelief.

His emerald eyes had instinctively shot over to the 'Her' in question. What he finds is a blonde, blue eyed, bombshell straight out of some teenage fantasy he once had. Her hair is pulled up into a tight pony tail that seems to straining the bronzed skin of her temples. A black shirt is what she dons with the word 'Fangtasia' scralled over it in red lettering. Her pale blue eyes look tight and worried as she glances over to Alcide. Those dark blonde brows scrunching up in something like confusion.

As discreetly as he can, Alcide takes a sniff of the air in the desolate bar. Over the scent of sweat, grime, liquor and that dry stale ugliness that is vampires he catches what maybe he shouldn't. The air is littered in the scent of blood. But not human and not were's. It is the scent of vampire blood and loads of it. Enough of it that he's sure whoever it came from isn't around anymore.

It's in the middle of taking his second inhale that he catches a whiff of the blue eyed goddess. She smells of honeysuckle, rosewood and something...something that reminds him of what the sunlight feels like. It is an invigorating smell to take in. Enough so, that he know understands—at least by a little bit—why the fangers have kept her around.

If she smelled this appealing to him—a Were and not a blood sucker—he can only imagine what it must do to the undead. Though, he has to wonder, if the girl is all mortal. For he's never smelled a human who can smell anything like this Sookie did. He's never met a normal human who didn't smell like everything they'd ingested all day. Supes were the only ones who could smell like what they were and who they are rather than where they've been. So, he wonders if maybe she's not just a little bit more than plain old... _mortal_.

“She is now under my employ, as it were. And I would like to keep my asset safe and secure,” Northman announces easily.

And though Northman has offered not a pitch of malice or inclination of suspicion, it is clear what he means. The vampire sheriff clearly does not think his human employee will stick around after whats gone down here tonight.

Heaving a sigh, Alcide reminds himself that this isn't any of his business. He's got himself, his mother and sisters business to worry about, and the whole of his Pack. He knows better than to start getting into trouble over a girl, again.

The name _Debbie_ echoes in his mind.

To which he staunchly ignores with an internal growl.

“For how long?” Alcide asks after he's torn his gaze away from the human-ish woman.

“For as long as I will it wolf,” was all the response the vampire gaze him before he zipped on back to the privacy of his office.

Turning slowly he eyes what's left of the blood suckers in the room. One is Northman's childe, Pamela, who's dressed in a skin tight black dress that reminds him of the TV hostess Elvira. The other vampire is a man whose sideburns should have stayed in the black and white history books. His name? Alcide isn't sure. He's never met the corpse before this night and Alcide isn't sure he's seen him around Fangtasia. By the looks of it though, Alcide is sure he'll be seeing more of side burn guy and his constipated looking face.

Heaving yet another sigh, he forces himself to move further into the room. His gaze falling to the blonde woman who sits strangely in her chair. She's—this Sookie, is fidgeting in her seat. Small little twitches that look as if she's wired with just enough energy to light up a whole city. Her plump pink lips keep opening as if she's going to say something only for them to be caught between her blinding white teeth.

“I'm Alcide Herveaux,” he announces to the woman once he's settled about halfway to her, but, before he can finish his sentence the woman has all but jumped out of her seat.

Her powder blue eyes a little wild as she rushes towards him. A very Mannish instinct in him wants nothing more than to back up and pull away from the wild look in her eye. But the beast in him is a dominate force of nature. The Beast won't allow even an inch of retreat. He's a Pack leader, a full blooded WereWolf and above all else he is of an Alpha disposition.

He stands his ground.

“What are you?” the woman, Sookie, demands of him instantly, “I can't hear you. Your mind is all red and...gnarly.”

Furrowing his brows in confusion, he chances a glance up at the vampires still in the room, when he sees that none make a move to pull this human—presumably _their_ human—away from him, he answers, “I'm a Werewolf ma'am.”

“A werewolf?!” she sputtered back in her heavy southern Louisianan twang, “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” he answers dryly. He's not in the mood for whatever game this fangbanger was into playing.

“Vampires and werewolves, huh,” she half mutters to herself before her eyes flash around to the vampire with a black mop for hair, “I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised, I am a telepath.”

to that, all he can think is, 'That explains Northman's interest in her'.

Ignoring the southern belle he turns his gaze to Pamela and asks, “I'm assuming he means for me to start tailing her tonight, right?”

“You should never assume anything, dog,” was what the she-devil vamp announced before pinning him with her unnaturally dull green eyes, “But, yes, tonight marks the beginning of your duty in ensuring my Makers nifty assets survival.”

“Is all this really necessary?” the dark haired vampire asks in a heavy—truly heavy—southern accent that grated on Alcide's heightened senses, “Clearly, she will be safe in my company. She does, after all, belong to me.”

_'Belong to me'_ the words serve to roll Alcide's empty stomach. He's never been a fan of the ease in ownership Vampires have over another living breathing person. Worse still, the happy acceptance of it from the human being owned. More so now that the Vamp's had come out of the coffin and the whole blood sucking danger of them had been glossed over and made glamorous.

“Billy-boy, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. And seeing as to how I'd rather cut my own tits off rather than lay a finger on you, well, you see how I wouldn't be able to throw you very far, right?” Pamela answers, her tone a dry, whip cracking sound as she all but sneered in the other vampires direction. Without turning her head in Alcide's direction she merely waves a perfectly manicured hand his way and says to all, “You all may go on your merry fucking way.”

Suppressing the urge to bare his teeth and rip the she-vamps face right off, Alcide turns on his heel and heads out the front door. The patter of shoes and feet tell him Sookie and the vampire follow him out. On this night he hadn't bothered coming in his truck, as he hardly uses the thing except for work. Tonight he came in his bike and now he's kind of grateful. He'll need the chase of speed induced adrenaline after this night. Steadily, he makes his way over to his soft black colored FatBoy sitting in a slant right off the driveway of Fangtasia. It is only when he is perched upon his his bike that he turns to once more acknowledge the not-so-human Sookie.

“So how do we do this? Am I supposed to give you my address so you can stalk me?” she asks, a biting note to her words that is given form by the pinch between her brows.

“No ma'am, I don't need any of that, I just need to...” he lets his words trail off as the reality of her situation sinks in. She's a top sider. She may be supernaturally inclined but, by her surprise earlier at him being a werewolf was any indication, she obviously wasn't savvy in the supe know how. What he's about to say might sound utterly insane to her. To any other supe it'd be accepted, understood even, but she will instantly label him a creep, he's sure of it.

“I just need your scent,” he finally finishes after an odd beat or so, one of his hands coming up to rub the back of his neck as he eyed the woman.

“My scent?” she parrots back, her eyes laced with confusion as she turns to glance over her shoulder to the vampire she belongs to.

Nodding his dark head, the vampire who's dressed as if he's just come from a prayer group, tells her in heavy words, “He needs to smell you Sookie.”

“Wha-What? Why?!” Sookie sputters as her cheeks turn a nice shade of pink.

“I'm a wolf,” Alcide tells her easily as he drops his hands onto him lap and waits, “We've got a better sense of smell than most. If I catch on to a scent, well, it's almost impossible to forget. I'll be able to find you.”

For a moment, Sookie does her best impression of a fish out of water. Her pale pink lips opening and closing in her shock and disbelief. It takes her a moment to finally gather her wits and make a decision. With one last glance back at her Vampire she takes three tentative steps forward, towards him. When she gets no resistance from him she nods her blonde head firmly, “Alright, lets get this over with.”

“I'm going to need your hand,” he tells her simply and then waits for her to extend a long toned sun bronzed arm.

Once she has, he wastes no time gripping her forearm gently and pulling it towards him. With one last look into pale sky blue eyes he dips his head downward and runs the tip of his nose over her wrist. Taking a deep inhale he lets the scent of her wash over his senses. The smells of rosewood causes his eyes to fall half lidded. The hints of honeysuckle fall upon his tongue to the point where he imagines he can taste it—taste her. He can smell that thing again, the one that reminds him of what sunlight feels like, of what clean air tastes like, and what untouched nature was.

All of it—All of her making him feel light headed and a bit drunk. The scent of her calling upon lust, need and hunger in him.

It's a beautiful scent. One he won't soon forget. And if it was up to him he'd let himself indulge just a second more but he can hear the beginning notes of the vampires growl. So he pulls back from that half intoxicating smell and forces his eyes to open once more. What he finds further fans the flames of his growing attraction of the blonde blue eyed woman.

That pretty little blush has found its way downward from her cheeks and onto the slope of her neck. His addled mind quickly wonders if it might travel a bit further down. But, he nips that thought in the bud. It wouldn't do to openly salivate over a woman who was just as knee deep in the vampire shit as he was. (Probably worse considering she was owned body, mind and soul by one.)

Ignoring the nameless Vampire, he revs up his engine and tells Sookie, “I'd say goodbye, but, we'll be seeing each other soon.”

With that he rides off, loud and fast. He knows he's got orders to watch the girl but he's got to make sure his bike is left at home where it's safe. He'll simply find her in his wolf form, but, first he's got to inform the rest of his pack what he's just been tasked with.

A grimace paints itself across his face at the thought of his sisters possible reaction.

—X—

 

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	2. The Trespasser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new face has just rolled into town.

—X—

She's got her hands tied. Not literally, no, but she might as well have. If it was up to her she wouldn't be here, not at all. But, there are rules she must adhere to. Rules older than she, older than them, older than any of them. Implemented probably since the dawn of their kind that tells her she has little choice in the matter. Rules about territory, about trespassers and Vagabonds. Rules that varied from species to species.

Rules that might be forcing her to walk to her death—or worse.

The grass underfoot crunches lightly as she takes a step forward. It's taken her a full three days, since she's entered the state, to find a clearing that's practically void of their scent. A task that was easier said than done considering how many overlaying scents were found. (Obviously, there was more than one pack wandering about.) But she finds some little marshland clearing with nothing but wildlife markers splayed here and there. It's about as much as a neutral setting as she can find. The clearing itself is somewhere over two hours outside of any major cities and is situated clearly in the murky marshlands of the southern state.

The possibility of Mortals stumbling into them is zero to none.

Quietly she walks around her parked truck and moves to stand just before the hood. Her dark eyes flitting from left to right trying to assess where the dangers might be lurking or come out tumbling from. But the woods are still this night, well, as still as they can get. When she's satisfied that she is indeed alone she glances overhead to take in the shape of the moon.

The crescent shape glows like a curved sickle against the black sky. She draws her power and courage from the waning moon and breathes it in deep. Tipping her head back, she breathes the power of the moon back out, the loud— _shrill_ —sound of her howl ripping apart the steady calm of the night.

In all, her howl is not a thing laced in grace or poise. But, such is the case with those of her ilk. Her kinds howls are loud, high pitched and reeking of feral energy. Up close, she knows many don't like it—her howl. They call it ear piercing, unsettling and nerve grating. She's heard many a mortal call it, ' **Screeching** ' or ' _Haunting_ '. Still, she holds the long and over done note until her lungs burn and her teeth tremble with the sheer volume.

Normally, when she was in anothers territory, she did well never to raise her voice to the silver goddess. Many packs considered such an act as territorial, hostile or worse, war enticing. It is a thing simply not done out of respect for those whose land you've trespassed. Normally, she kept her second nature well and truly tamed when crossing territory lines. But, this is different.

She's crossed over into wolf territory now and wolves are different than most species. Before she can move any further she needs to gain their permission to so much as tread on their land or pray none of them catch her and rip her to pieces if she doesn't.

When her howl teeters off into a low note and then vanishes all together, the soul of the woods has quieted. The crickets, cicadas and rustle of bat wings have stilled. Slowly, she walks backwards two steps until her back is pressed against the grill of her truck. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her black leather jacket while lighting a cigarette she sits in wait for whomever will answer her call.

—X—


	3. Chapter 3

Sweet, that's the word often lingering on his tongue when he thinks of her. Blonde hair the color of bleached gold, often holds the scent of lilies after she comes out of the shower. Her eyes the shade of clear blue skies, sparkle when she thinks she's been especially clever and not at all dorky. Her lips, the softest shade of pale pink are neither too plump or thin and when she smiles, by the silver goddess, she _shines_.

So he thinks, Sookie is a sweet girl even if she has a nasty tendency to rush into certain life threatening situations with nary a thought spared. She's sweet right up until she crashes a nest party at her vampire boyfriends house because the undead prick is ignoring her. She's sweet right up until she confronts a serial rapist and murderer in the cemetery because the man killed her grandmother some years past—not at all armed. She's sweet until she opens her mouth fantasizing about what her life would be like if she hadn't ever tied herself to Bill in the first place. She's sweet up until she starts playing that weird little game where she likes to pretend it's him she's tied herself to, forever and always.

She's sweet right up until she starts showing all the nasty, emotionally unavailable, mentally constipated, side of herself that reminds him of his past shitty love. But, she's sweet. Every time he's asked about it at pack meetings—What's it like trailing a telepath all day—he tells them, ;she's a sweet girl who's got the shit end of a situation'.

But, as his sister is so fond of pointing out, he's just a sucker for a woman with a wound on their side. ( _You've got shit taste Al_ , she'd tell him from around the neck of a beer bottle.) His sister likes to think he's got a complex when it comes to girls. Needing those ' _damsel's in distress_ ' types so that he can play the savior.

No point in denying it, as he had when Janice interrogated him, he's got a frustratingly large crush on his charged ward. Hard not to when the woman is the sole embodiment of the suns heart. Hard not to when she touches his shoulder before a shift and tells him so sincerely to 'stay safe'. Hard not to when it's… _Her_. Still, he tries not to let it color his vision.

This is, after all, a job in the end.

This is a debt being repaid, nothing more and nothing less. No matter how much he wishes he can simply run up to her and kiss the ever living shit out of her, he knows he cannot. After all, even if this wasn't some debt/job, Sookie belonged utterly—and without question—to Bill and after Bill came Eric. Because, Alcide called bullshit on Eric wanting her solely on her otherworldly talents. Alcide recognized the hunger in Eric's navy eyes easily enough; he saw it building in his own eyes clear as day.

That left Alcide, the unlucky bastard that he is, to pine from Sookie's porch bench utterly hopeless.

Tonight is no different. He's been here—at Sookie's homestead—since she left Merlotte's at five thirty. The sounds of his pack—his wolf Pack—echo to him from the deep gnarly woods of the Stackhouse unending lands. Sookie—with all the good will that lives in her large heart—had offered her land for the pack to run about. Because it seemed, that Janice—the insubordinate little shit that she is—does not know how to follow orders and keep out of his business with Eric. The pack being the Pack have shouldered his duty as much as they can. And so, if he is out here alone, they wander this way as best they can. Since he cannot go to them for their nightly runs they find him.

Pack, means family, it means never standing alone. _Pack means we belong_ , the words of his late grandmother echo in him as he listens to the sounds of playful growls. He can just barely hear the deep timber of his sisters growls as she wrangles the youngest members to herself. Tonight three pups have joined the run and they are young yet. 16, 17, still so young that they are ruled by their second nature. Still so young that they need a heavy set of eyes upon them lest they run amok. Young enough that they cannot control the shift of their limbs or the flashes to their eyes that shows their defiant nature to all things resembling rules.

The Alpha—that primal side of himself that's all beast—rears it's ugly head at the sound of them. Because, his beast knows—as damn well as Alcide the man knows too—that they need discipline. They need to learn the way of their world. They need to learn that there is rank and Rank meant they couldn't just run about like beasties all the time. The Alpha in him growls because _he_ wants to be the one to snap his teeth at them and force them to bare their throats to him. _He_ wants them to belly up and show some respect. Because Janice may be the current Female Alpha of his Pack, but he was the head of this pack, the Pack Master. It was to him that they owed their undivided loyalty to because this was his pack, the pack of the Long Tooth.

But...he can't. Not now, not while he's been saddled with Sookie as a duty until Eric wishes it not.

His beast rankles at the thought of him shirking his duty as Alpha of the Pack. As Pack master he should be the one running them into the ground. As Pack Master...

“Hey,” came the soft whisper of a voice that pulled him out of his whirling thoughts. And sure enough, the siren that eluded him in all things, stood before him at the beginning of the steps of her own house. Baby blue eyes glimmering with concern as the scent of her wafted up to tease at his supernaturally enhanced senses.

“You okay?” she asks after a short while of simply gazing into his own green eyes.

Forcing his gaze away and out over to the edge of the forest line, where half his pack now runs about, he tells her, “Yeah, just a little on edge.”

“Full moon jitters?” Sookie questions easily.

To that he simply nods. He's been tailing Sookie for the better part of four months now. Long enough so, that Sookie has asked him nearly a million and one questions about the behaviors of the two natured. Long enough that it's getting decidedly harder to dodge the more invasive—more secretly bound—queries of hers. Because, Alcide may have a raging crush for the blonde southern belle, but even he was never to keen to betray old pack beliefs. Sookie, for all that she is kind, is still an outsider.

Not Pack, not a Supe—even if she had some smidge of magic in her veins—she is adamant to deny. She lives a normal mortals life with a normal mortals wish to live her life the cookie cutter molded way. Plus, Were's weren’t out of the Woods—as it were—like the Vamps were out of the Coffin. It went against every grain in his body to divulge information that might endanger the well being of his Pack—of his Family.

Still, she's been told easily enough about the pull the moon has on his kind. The way they drew their power from it waxing and waning. She knows enough about him and his kind wishing to run under the full moon. It's why she's so graciously allowed his pack on her land. Because, she's a mind reader after all—and though she can't pinpoint his exact thoughts, only the gist of them—she knows he longs for their company tonight.

“Your sister's out there?” Sookie asks, settling casually and with ease at his side upon the floor of her front porch. Her scent of honeysuckle and rosewood wafting upward and over to him. She smells of happiness and content so sharply at the simple act. A pleasurable hum slipping just under her breath as she sidles up to him. Their thighs pressed pleasantly against one another as if they are more than simple awkward acquaintances. The way she leans into his space seeking the waves of heat he gives off lends to a shared past they do not have.

All of it leaving him feeling heady and slightly disorientated. Longing.

“Yeah, she got here 'bout an hour ago,” he answers, his eyes fluttering over to the large sycamores, white oaks and willows intertwining flawlessly to make up a dense woodland life here.

The hour is growing later and later, the longer he sits here upon his charges porch. The sky has already lost it's violent coloring of crimson and violet as the sun had made it's slow descent. The darkening of the sky has long since begun. Soft navy blue bleeding, steadily, into a deeper darker shade of black.

He knows he should pull himself to his feet and head into the woods. He knows he should relieve his sister of sole responsibility of the young pups. He knows he should round up the older members of his pack—his Betas and Gammas—and give them their explicit orders to stay within the Stackhouse lands. He knows he should be out there because the Stackhouse land runs adjacent to that of a vampires and tonight they have with them less than responsible adolescents.

But, by the Moon, how he is loathed to move from the warmth of Sookies company.

“Hmmm,” Sookie hums softly, reeking of contentment and happiness, “I like these lazy evening's with you.”

“Yeah?” Alcide asks, trying and failing to _**not**_ feel a warmth of pleasure bloom in his chest.

“Yeah,” Sookie tells him, her eyes turning to glance at him with a soft smile on her face, “You've got this way about you Alcide. Like, you exude peace or something. You're always just so calm and collected I feel like I can breath around you.”

“Thanks? I think,” he laughs lightly, forcing the beginnings of a blush from creeping onto his face.

Thirty-six year old men did not blush, least of all an Alpha Pack Master, thank you very much.

“You're definitely welcome,” she laughs bright and free as she bumps her naked golden kissed shoulder against his flannel clad one. Her blue eyes sparkling with mirth as she takes in the wry smile he sends her way. But then, that smile falters as the light in her eyes dims somewhat, heaving a tired sigh the smell of her frustration and sadness is carried over by the wind to his nose, “Having you around kinda helps me deal with all the things going on with me and Bill right now.”

Oh, and how Alcide wishes he could deny the fact that his heart drops to the pit of his stomach at the admission. His wolf just barely suppressed from issuing a savage growl at the mention of that heartless dead douche.

“He givin' you trouble again?” he asks, shifting his gaze back out into the woods. His ears picking up the fact that his pack has inched closer to the tree's edge.

The tall tale sign of a rumbling inquiry reaching his ears before the scent of jasmine and cottonwood filters through. The tang of a familial bond—a blood kin—reaching him just short of their pack bond ringing easily enough in his chest. There is a question in the hum of their bond, just beneath his breast bone, of concern and care that almost makes him smile.

 _Nosey little sisters_ , he grouses ruefully to himself.

“He's been acting a bit fussy since I told him I'd have to start working double shifts over at Sam's,” Sookie explains, effectively breaking the quiet that hung about them.

“Why do you need to start working doubles? Northman not paying you your dues?” he questions only half mindedly; the other portion of his thoughts occupied with how much his sister—and I.E Pack—might be able to make out with their more than enhanced hearing at this range.

 _Probably all of it, nosey pups_ , his wolf half growls in annoyance.

“What, you think I should sit back on my laurels content to have a _Man_ look after me until the day I die, too?” Sookie spits out at him, her bitter tone and anger heated words ringing viciously in his ears. It's enough to have him snapping his gaze back over to stare at her—properly confused.

“What?” is his more than eloquent response to that.

Rolling her eyes and crossing her arms in a huff, Sookie half growls, “Ever since I struck up this damn deal with Eric, where he pays me to be his little lie sniffer, Bill's been nagging at me to quit my job at Sam's. He says with Eric's pay and him footing all my bills I'd be more than properly taken care of till kingdom come. Say's I should be more than happy to be looked after all day long. He's been spouting off such nonsense you'd think he was still living in the pre-civil war ages! Talking about where I ought to be just cause I was born—quote— _of the fairer sex_. As if to say, just cause I'm a girl and got him I'd ought to just forget what my gran drilled into my head. That I ought to just give up trying to be an independent individual woman and just be the pretty face he sees.”

“Sometimes, hearing him say all that, I think he's real backwards! Like he's stuck in his ways and hasn't deigned it fit to look into this modern day and age's ideals. Sometimes, I think maybe it's just Bill in general. There's tons of vampires down at Fangtasia. Tons of them that have lived just as long as Bill—if not longer—and they don't think like him. They don't tell me I should head on home and embrace the barefoot and mindless life where my sole purpose in life is to provide for Bill's every whim. Some do. Some are down right mean about it.”

“But—But, that's not my point! My point is...My point is… Ugh!” Sookie growls out in anger. Her golden tanned features alighting the quickening of her blood. She's as angry as Alcide has ever seen her.

And that's saying something, since it had been Alcide who had pulled her from the muddy cemetery ground where (that sick fuck) René had nearly killed her. The air that hangs around her now is thick with her frustration and laced with the bitter scent of her ire. A sharp smell that reminds him of paint thinner and orange peels. Her chest is heaving, her breaths coming out ragged and in harsh pants, as she fights to gather back some sense of control from her sudden—and seemingly out of nowhere—outburst.

Still, even with that blotchy blush staining her features high on her nose and cheeks—trailing down the expanse of her neck—he finds her to be the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. From the sloppy curls of her towel tousled hair to the way her pale pink upper lip quivers ever so slightly in her rage.

Yes, she's beautiful, he thinks and so wildly unobtainable it hurt.

But, he forces those thoughts away, for a different night where he doesn't have her scent of anger and sadness clogging up his sense of smell entirely. Instead, he focuses on all that she's told him. Every bitter word and fast paced sentenced strung together to spell out the heart of her problems as chaotically as only Sookie could.

At it all, Alcide can only stare—confusion and shock ringing clear in his expression.

First off, he wishes to tell her, he was raised by a strong independent woman; a Mother, Pack Alpha Female Leader, and all around grade A Bad-Ass, Shit-Kicker. He's also got a little sister who's helped drill all thoughts of feminism so deep into his mind that even his wolf can quote Maya Angelou if need be. Then there are his Aunt's who actually marched in Washington for the Feminist movement in the seventies. So he knows a woman can hold her own. Knows it because he's seen his mother straighten up her shoulders and steel her nerves to face the world—both supernatural and mortal.

Aside from all that, he may look like your average everyday Male, but he sure as fuck wasn't. He's a werewolf and contrary to popular belief, that meant he knew better than to assume he knew best for a female. Pack dynamics are nothing like the trashy romance novels Sookie binge reads or how modern media portrays it to be. More often than not Packs are lead exclusively by the female Alpha. Male Alphas half the time are just for show.

(His Pack just happened to be lead by himself, a Male, because Janice straight up declined in the rudest way possible and forced him to step up.)

There's a raging need inside him to simply roar. To tell Sookie that she deserves better than that misogynistic ass of a corpse. That she should do whatever the hell she wished and if that happened to mean she worked her finger tips to the bone at that two star restaurant than so be it. Vampire or not, born to a different era or not, Vampires knew better than to cater to the warped ideals of Mortal's. Vampire Courts, Kings and Queens, now-a-days are easily balanced—as in there's just as many male leaders as there are female. So Bill's just being a backward douche.

He open's his mouth to say just that, only to have it snapped shut as Sookie grumbles lowly, “I don't know why you werewolves hate Vampires so much. You all have more in common than you want to admit.”

Standing much closer than she had been not two minutes ago, the growls of his sister are carried by the night time wind. The smell of fresh wrath and hate stinging the inside of his mouth.

“Neither of you want to admit you're worlds are built inside out and downside up,” she mumbles after a while, clearly, her human ears had not heard the growl of one single wolf. Sookie then misses the sound of his gathered pack growling as a whole as she gathers herself up and heads into her empty home. Her back is to him, her hand resting on the knob of her front door, as she issues one last remark, “Vampires and Werewolves, both of you all are so backwards it's disgusting.”

He doesn't wait on the her porch for the sounds of her settling into bed. Instead he rises with purpose and strides back into the forest where some of his pack awaits him. The pounding anger, hurt and disgust, his pack feels radiating through the pack bonds in his chest. All of it making his Beast snap and growl with growing ire. Somehow, by the grace of the Goddess alone, he manages to undress before he shifts entirely. The moment his gigantic furred paws touch the dew moistened woodland floor, he takes off at a furious pace. The howls of his Pack ringing behind him as they join him for a hunt.

Tonight he had not meant to hunt. He had no intention of wandering too far from Sookies home. He had meant to stay close to keep her safe, to guard and protect the girl he held so dear. But now, now he wanted to almost run away from the woman. He wanted to put as much distance between the two of them as he physically could. Because, her words had hurt. Hurt more than she might understand them to do ever be capable of.

But, he ignores the hurt and anger building in him and allows his beast to steer him deeper into the woods.

The scent of wild hogs fills his nose and tease at his beast. The animals wouldn't pose much of a challenge, all things considered, but he welcomes the distraction readily. Pivoting to his right, he chases down his prey and puts all thought of his unrequited affection behind him.

It's somewhere between forcing his pups into baring their neck for him after a squabble for rank had ensued, that he hears it.

Loud and long, high and weedy, something like a howl but more of a screech, it's an ugly thing. It's a sound unlike any other he's ever heard before. Not a wolves howl but something like it. This ugly shrill cry makes him bare his teeth in agitation and anger because, even though he has never heard a cry like this before, he can hear the message in it clear enough.

It was an outsider, a trespasser, calling out and announcing his presence.

Announcing his presence in his Pack's Territory; his territory.

A trespasser cannot be afforded to walk freely in their lands. It would send a horrible message to those surrounding his territory. That he and his pack is so weak that any could come and go as they pleased. Especially now that word had spread that he was under the thumb of a certain yellow haired cretin.

With a simple glance over to his sister, a nod is shared, an understanding that this threat must be handled here and now. In a flurry of movement, the pack moves towards the origin of the sound.


	4. The Youngest Herveaux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Contrary to popular belief, the Herveaux children held more differences than they did similarities.'

 

 

 

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Contrary to popular belief, the Herveaux children held more differences than they did similarities.

At first glance, they are so near identical one might call them twins. Despite, of course, the fact that they hold a near eight-year age gap between them. What with their tall height, broad athletic builds, and wolf selves sharing near identical coats, it’s easy to believe that for better or worse they are spitting images of one another.

But, they are not.

By way of facial characteristics, they share plenty. Their cheeks are high placed; the broad shape of their eyes is shared. The emerald green shade of their irises is also a shared item. Their noses are broad and their chins squared like their forefathers before them. Both hold a shade of shimmering tan from their many hours spent in the mid-day sun in whatever shift they happen to be in. even some of their mannerisms are the same.

This, of course, is only at first glance. 

If one ever bothered to look past all the common similarities they’d find not only a handful, but also, a wells worth of differences between Brother and Sister.

The Oldest heir to the Herveaux line, Pack Master of the Long Fang Tribe and reigning Alpha, was—despite actively not wishing to be—the near spitting image of their father. The dark black wavy hair, thick and wild, was of their fathers’ line. The heavy rugged pull of his face was their fathers. The pinch to his brows whenever he grew upset or confused came, too, from their father’s side of things. His face may be more inclined to their father but his heart, soft and compassionate, that came from their mother. His need to help all those wounded animals that happened to come his way was their mother’s love in him. His gentle hands and easy smiles came from their mother. His nurturing nature, the easy way it came to him to love and trust, was their mothers radiance in him. His forgiving heart—the sole reason his heart so often bled—was their mothers beating love. 

The Youngest of the Herveaux line, current Female Alpha of the Long Fang Tribe, was in fact the spitting image of her mother Grace. Everything from the smooth slope of her nose to the delicate length of her fingers, she was her mothers daughter. Her honey brown hair came from her mother’s ancestry, a happy mix of French blood and Louisiana swamp water. The tilt of her chin, defiant in nature, came from her mother too. It was in everything else she resembled her father. Where Alcide had been born with all of their mothers grace and compassion, Janice had been born with her father’s quick temper and his need for retribution. Her hands were better fit for fists then they were to cup wounds. In her were her father’s vices, his need to run on four legs more than they did two. The longing lust for a life built bloodier and rougher than a human’s life. Hunger and simmering rage in her veins were her fathers. There was nothing in her that was soft and nurturing. 

Nothing that suggested she was even remotely raised by the woman who did in fact bring her up.

These differences are what she see’s more than she see’s their similarities. 

Especially now when she sits on the edge of the Stackhouse lands with barely controlled fury boiling away inside her. Her fangs itch to dig into the meaty inner flesh of that woman’s thigh and rip from her pretty venomous lips cries of anguish.

Her mother Janice may look like, but her mother she was not. Vengeance was a familiar taste on her tongue whenever she found herself slighted. Whether it be on two legs or four. Janice was not one to take slights lying down. Least of all to those she loved. 

And love her brother she did. 

In all honesty, Janice hadn’t been sure what to expect when she was first introduced to her big brothers crush. But having been her brother’s first and only real confidant for the better part of their lives, well, she knows her brothers tastes. Setting her eyes on one Ms. Sookie Stackhouse, Janice isn’t all too surprised at what she finds: Blonde, blue eyed, buxom and sweet as sin.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her brothers wide spread grin. But, for the most part, she kept her thoughts on the woman to herself. Equal standing ranks they may hold, but in the end she respected her brother too much to belittle his shit tastes in women. 

And though she didn’t actually know the woman, Janice felt she was witnessing history repeat itself. 

The woman—this Sookie—was a walking contradiction and speaking disaster. 

All raw independent female empowerment seeping out of her very pores while all the while bending and bowing to the strict southern female oppressing rules of her hometown. Demanding she be taken seriously when she only ever does stupid shit where she needs someone bigger and stronger to come save her. Presenting herself for the entire world as if she is some sweet southern belle when she snubs her nose at the very thought. 

Preaching about acceptance with the undead but hurling vicious stereotypes about Two-Natured in the same breath. 

Janice didn’t like her from the get. She never liked the way she fluttered her eyes at her brother while holding tight to Compton’s hand. Janice hated the way she leaned carelessly into her brother while she played footsies with the blonde vampire from the bar. Janice doesn’t like her because every one whose ever laid eyes on her can’t help but fall in love with her.

Janice didn’t like her on principle alone.

So when she hears those bitter words, laced in venom as they are, slip past pink unsuspecting lips…Janice sees _red_. If not for the bark of her Alpha—her brother—she would have ran back to that house and ripped to shreds that woman.Logically, she knows she can’t do that. Janice knows her brothers heart is bigger and much more forgiving than her own.

And Janice knows, with bitter fucking reality, that Alcide will endure the bullshit if only to have Sookie smile his way. Because, Alcide did it once before with that shifter bitch and he would undoubtedly do it for this blonde too. The truth of it tasting like bile down her throat. 

When the call goes out, a long and ugly thing that it is, Janice is half buried in thoughts of taking a chunk out of Sookie’s thigh meat. When Alcide gives the order to hunt the trespasser down, she hardly needs any more prompting than that.

The thought of running down something made of flesh and blood—and providing an infinitely more challenging chase than the boars had been—makes her heart hammer in her chest. With a speed only their kind can produce, they rage through the woods, trampling in their wake the soft underbrush of the undisturbed forest life.

It must take them more than forty five minutes to get to the origin of that lonesome cry. Out past any markers of civilized life and out into the wilds of Louisiana’s forests. When they arrive to the clearing, the young pups—who can barely manage to shift fully—are out of breath and nearly falling over. But their eyes are bright with their excitement in the turn of events. She can nearly taste their bloodlust in the air.

Janice makes sure to snap her teeth at them in warning. For they may be young yet, but they will learn that they must tow the line for their Pack Alpha, especially in situations like this. They must not act on their basest of instincts that might make their Alpha’s leadership look anything but absolute. Before an outsider, clan or trespasser, they must look like a united front. 

When finally, most of them have caught their breath, she goes to stand side by side with her brother; their heights, weight and black fur color nearly undistinguishable from one another. Together, as a unit, the two black wolves of the last of the Herveaux line step forward to meet the new dangers upon their territory. Past thoughts of shitty women and her brothers injured heart forgotten in light of the current events. 

What they find waiting for them in the little clearing leaves Janice a little more than slightly… _surprised_. 

Well, _disappointed_ better fit the bill. 

Leaning lazily against the hood of a beat up, half rusted over, little single cab black truck is a girl.

With a good search of her surroundings, and the confirming huff of their circling Betas, the area is deemed clear from any others lingering in the shadows. The girl is alone. 

Carefully both she and her brother make their way over the soft green grass until they stand in the mid of the clearing. Slowly, Janice takes in this new stranger, her eyes taking apart the figure to assess the girls level of danger.

The first and foremost thing Janice cannot help but notice, is the shock of violet colored hair the girl sports. Under the glare of the full moon’s light, the shade glows vibrantly. The left side of the girls head is shaved clear of any hair, not but a centimeter of slight buzz remains, what isn’t cut spills long and in lazy waves past the girls mid chest. When the wind blows, those purple strands sway and spill over to reveal the right side is cut exactly the same way. 

The girl is dressed in torn up black skinny jeans and a faded gray distressed shirt with the word ‘ _Brute_ ’ written over it in black blocky letters. A worn down black leather jacket and a pair of scuffed up black boots completes the look the stranger wears. The shine of something metal on the girls nose catches Janice’s attention but she cannot quite make out.

The sight is so punk rock, Janice cannot help the gruff snort that she issues at the sight of the stranger. But other than looking like her mothers worst nightmare, Janice cannot for the life of her find anything insidious about this newcomer. The girl was little more than just that, some girl with an ugly sense of style. 

Whatever type of Were the girl might be would hold no true threat to the pack or herself. The girl was too tiny, too thin, too…weakly to ever be considered a real threat. She was, most probably, just some punk kid riding through territories for the hell of it. 

Ignoring long engrained instincts to distrust outsiders, Janice shifts with ease. Four legs retreating to reveal long, toned and sun bronzed skin.

“You’re trespassing,” she announces as she pushes her tangled honey brown locks from her face.

The strange purple haired girl shrugs her shoulder and tells her, in a voice that is nothing but deep rasps and husky baritones, “Figured as much, that’s why I formally called out to you wolves.”

“Why are you here?” Janice demands, her eyes unwavering from the dark stare of the girls.

“I’m looking for a relatively safe place to live,” the girl announces, as she places a lit cigarette to her dark lips. But when her gaze darts downwards to the unshifted form of her brother, the girl offers, “If not, then I’m not looking for trouble and I’ll pass right through.”

Silence stretches into the nighttime air for far longer than Janice thinks it out to have. So with a low grumble on her behalf, Alcide shifts to his mannish form. Slowly he rises from his crouched position, a tall and imposing figure that dwarfed even Janice. 

“This here is Long Fang territory,” Alcide announces, his dark and deep voice all but shaking the ground they stood upon. 

Silently, and secretly, Janice marvels at the hidden strength her brother held. In him were all the natural makings of an Alpha. In him were all the strength of their father and all the righteous conviction of their mother. In him, she sees all that he could be and would never let himself become. 

This was her Brother, Her Alpha.

“Am I not welcome here?” the girl questions in a cloud of gray smoke.

There is no hint of anger in her voice. No tone of usurpation, no lilt of insidious nature, not inkling that disrespect was had. 

Instead, what sits on her slim little shoulders, is resignation that she must once again climb into her truck and head out further into distant territories. Territories, Janice knew, would not so graciously accept her abrupt arrival. 

It is then that something nameless and foreign floods Janice as she stares at the girls’ tiny form. What dangers may lay in wait for such a little thing? Creatures far more dangerous than Wolf laid further north. Worry wriggles like an angry little earthworm in her mind. They couldn’t cast her out, they shouldn’t…

But before she can begin to voice her disagreement Alcide speaks.

“I don’t want trouble in my territory,” Alcide announces, vague if nothing else.

On careful silent feet—unnaturally so that even her enhanced hearing cannot make out the crunch of grass blades bending—the girl moves, making deliberate movements to show she came to them with no ill will. When finally, she is but four feet before them, Janice—as well as Alcide—is finally able to take her in. 

The sight of her face, littered in ugly scars and barely mended flesh cause shock to startle Janice a half step back. 

For those scars, ugly jagged things that they were were scars one only received in a fight. And as a two natured herself, Janice knew the only way to receive such injuries, that did not heal without the aide of their advance healing abilities to leave them unblemished, was in a fight with another two natured while in their shifted form. The scars that littered the girl’s small face were ugly monstrous things that showed a life built of blood and gore. Whatever horrors this girl endured Janice could not begin to know or imagine. 

The hairs at the nape of her neck stand on edge as she acknowledges that this tiny girl, vibrant violet hair and all, was just as much a deadly threat as she herself.

Shrugging her shoulders the girl offers them a grin that shows pearly white teeth that are much sharper than they ought to be. Through a cloud of smoke and past black painted plush lips the girl asks, “Do I look like trouble?”

‘ _No_ ,’ Janice argues within her mind, _‘You look like hell.’_

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im not entirely sure how to write through Janice's POV.


End file.
